Amidst the Shadows
by DarkxPrince
Summary: A series of one-shots centered around my female Dunmer Vampire Dragonborn's adventures through Skyrim. One-shots will jump around the timeline, so they're in no particular order.
1. Family

Family?

Charlya adjusted the knapsack as she hiked through the wilderness, cursing the sun even as she lowered her Nightingale hood, revealing pale gray skin and pointed ears. She ran a hand through her ebony hair, glowing orange eyes staring up into the sky. She was returning to Windstad Manor, her home in Hjaalmarch, after successfully completing a mission for Jarl Elisif the Fair. It had been far easier than she had expected, the raiders that had occupied a nearby fort had been unorganized and ill-equipped, which was the exact opposite of what the report had been. The half dozen raiders patrolling the perimeter hadn't even known she was there until one of her ebony arrows found a home in a guard's chest. After that it was a simple matter of clearing out the interior of the fort. Charlya licked her lips, grateful for the face mask which covered the lower half of her face. It was almost laughable how easy it had been to isolate each raider and drain them of their blood without alerting the others.

By the time she was done not only had she had her fill, she also had dozens of blood potions in case she wasn't able to hunt. Not that she particularly liked the blood potions, fresh blood was just _so _much better. Still it was better than not feeding for several days if there were no bandits on the roads, and it was safer to have the potions at home. Her wife and adopted daughters were blissfully unaware of her Vampiric nature, and Charlya would do everything she could to keep it that way. Charlya loved her family more than anything in all of Tamriel; she couldn't take the risk of them abandoning her because of her Vampirism. Charlya couldn't bear the thought of losing them; either them leaving her or harming them because her Vampiric urges were too strong. So she made sure to keep a decent supply of the blood potions, she also made sure to keep her fangs hidden as much as possible.

A smile formed across her face as she crested the next hill, Windstad Manor finally coming into view, even from this distance she could hear the two little girls laughing as they played and she picked up her pace, eager to see her family. Charlya all but sprinted as she spotted her family: the two little Nord girls, Sofie and Runa, chasing each other around while Charlya's Dunmer wife, Jenassa, leaned against the house as she watched over them. Runa and Sofie were the first ones to notice her return, stopping their playing and running up to her, throwing their arms around her waist while yelling "Mama, you're home!"

Charlya chuckled softly as she returned their hug, "And how are my precious daughters today? Didn't get into too much trouble I hope?"

"Wonderful as always, love," Jenassa said as the Dunmer woman joined them, Charlya pulling her in for a chaste kiss upon the lips.

"Mama! Come on, we've been practicing with the wooden weapons you got us! Come see!" Sofie said as she and Runa grabbed Charlya's hands and pulled her back toward the house.

Charlya laughed as she allowed the two Nord girls to drag her to the training yard, throwing her knapsack up against the house. Runa and Sofie each took a wooden practice sword, and stepped into the practice area. Charlya watched as the two girls practiced, offering encouragement when one of the girls performed the proper moves and gentle guidance when one of the girls faltered with a move. Charlya smiled beneath the facemask, it had only been the thought of her family, the remembrance of peaceful times like this that had kept her going constantly. There were dozens of times when she was trapped within an ancient Nordic ruin, surrounded by Draugr, the undead that prowled the halls of the ancient crypts, that she thought her luck had run out and she was going to die. All throughout her fight against the evil and ancient dragon, Alduin, there were times when it all seemed pointless and she was ready to just give up and let the world burn. Yet the thought of her family losing her, the thought of something happening to them, would be enough to reignite her fighting spirit and get her through even the toughest of times.

This was why she hid her Vampirism and this was why she fought. This was why she continued to take missions from the various guilds and Jarls; this was why she continued to explore and go on adventures. To keep her family safe and preserve peaceful times like ... she tensed up when she thought she heard something sound in the distance. She closed her eyes, straining her ears to try and find that sound again and praying that it was nothing, just a figment of her imagination. Several seconds passed without a sound, and she was just about to relax when she heard it again, this time louder but still distant. Cursing silently to herself, Charlya drew her Nightingale bow, "Runa, Sofie, get in the house and stay there."

"But Mama…" Sofie began to whine when a piercing roar interrupted her.

"Don't argue with me! In the house! NOW!" Charlya turned, sprinting to the front of the manor, eyes scanning the sky for what she knew was coming. And there it was, using the sun to partly hide itself, its dark purple scales glittering in the sunlight. The dragon bellowed a challenge, its roar echoing around her … and she shouted her own, the power of her Thu'um shaking the ground beneath her feet and carrying her voice for all to hear.

As the dragon dived Charlya loosed several arrows and leapt to the side, barely avoiding the dragon's fire that scorched the ground. Rolling back to her feet, she notched another arrow and tracked the dragon as it continued to circle above her. Charlya loosed several more arrows, dodging bursts of dragon fire as she did so, only half of her ebony arrows finding their mark and imbedding in the dragon's hide. The Dunmer woman cursed, the dragon had the upper hand and knew it; all the beast had to do was circle above her and eventually roast her with fire. Sheathing her bow, Charlya ran at the nearest tree and jumped into the branches, climbing as high as the tree would allow her. She crouched on the highest branch, her Nightingale Blade clenched in her hand, and waited. When the dragon passed over her she jumped, her blade cutting into the membrane of the dragon's wing. She twisted in mid-air as she fell, using her free hand to fling several throwing knives, the smaller ebony blades ripping through the dragon's wings.

Bellowing in anger the dragon plummeted to the ground, unable to keep itself in the air, coming dangerously close to Windstad Manor. Charlya rolled as she hit the ground, springing back to her feet and dashing at the dragon, yelling to get its attention but the beast had turned away from her and toward her house. In her mad sprint, Charlya didn't see the dragon's tail swinging for her; it hit her chest and sent her flying. She crashed into a tree and tumbled to the ground, screaming in pain as she felt several ribs break. She grit her teeth, looking through blurry eyes as Jenassa sprinted out to attack the dragon. The other Dunmer woman was a skilled fighter, and against bandits Jenassa would have no trouble, but this was a dragon she was fighting now and Charlya knew her wife wouldn't last long. As if to prove her right, the dragon racked its clawed wing across Jenassa's side, the Dunmer woman toppling to the ground with a scream. Jenassa pressed her hand against the wound, pushing herself up against the side of the manor. Sofie ran out of the house with a shout of "MOM!" and Runa echoed the same from the open doorway.

Jenassa tried to push the Nord girl away yelling, "RUN SOFIE!"

Time seemed to slow as Charlya watched, the dragon inhaling and readying its fire, her wife and daughters screaming in terror even as Charlya staggered to her feet. "No," she said, her voice barely a whisper as she stumbled forward. She couldn't lose her family … she just couldn't, not like this. "NO!" She shouted, running forward but she knew she wouldn't make it in time. She couldn't even use any of her magic spells to distract the dragon, she was too weak to form them properly and her Thu'um was too devastating to use with her family so close. They were just too far away for her to reach them in time to stop the dragon … not by any mortal means and not as she was now. She didn't even think about it, didn't have time to think about the repercussions, she just acted. She felt the change come to her in mid-step, changing and morphing her form into something inhuman … into a Vampire Lord.

With a burst of speed from the wings which sprouted from her back, Charlya barreled into the dragon, wrenching its head up as it loosed its fire. "Zu'u los Dovahkiin! _(I am Dragonborn!)_" She shouted in Dovahzul, the dragon language, her voice deep and gravely, wings flaring out behind her, "Hi fent ni aax dii ragnavir! _(You shall not harm my family!)_"

She dug her claws into the dragon's flesh, ripping them down even as she sank her razor sharp fangs into its throat, tearing out chunks of flesh. The dragon struggled in her grip attempting to free itself, its tail lashing back and forth and claws gouging into the earth. Yet she held tight; the gaping wound in the dragon's neck poured blood. The dragon spat fire harmlessly into the air. The dragon's blood poured out of the wound and down Charlya's face and body. She gulped down mouthfuls, the dragon's blood burning down her throat like liquid fire. Slamming the dragon's head onto the ground, she speared one of her clawed hands into the beast's skull. The dragon roared one last time as it died, Charlya wrenching her hand free and roared into the sky, bellowing her victory for all to hear. The Vampire Lord continued to roar even as the dragon's flesh dissolved into pure energy, surrounding her and pulled into her body as Charlya absorbed the dragon's soul, leaving nothing behind but bones.

When the bloodlust finally died down, she turned to face her family, reaching out with her bloody clawed hand. Sofie cringed away, burying her face further into Jenassa's neck, trembling in fear. Runa tried to hide further behind the door, her body shaking and whimpering loud in Charlya's ears. Jenassa's fear laden eyes stared up at her, the Dunmer woman tightening her hold around the little girl in her arms. Charlya dropped her elongated arm, hanging her head and breathed deeply, forcing herself to change back to her mortal form. She approached her family slowly; arms stretched to the sides, and knelt in front of Jenassa. Charlya reached out, her hand glowing with golden healing magic, her glowing orange eyes begging permission. Jenassa moved her arm away from the bloody wound in her side, giving only the slightest of nods.

"How …" Jenassa clenched her eyes shut, hissing in pain as the wound knit itself together, "How long have you been a … a ..."

"Vampire?" Charlya said softly, sparing her wife from saying it, "Shortly after the Red Mountain erupted and forced the exodus of our people from Morrowind." With the healing done, Charlya reached up and pulled the face mask down, revealing the three scars that ran diagonally over her left cheek and lip. Charlya ran her fingers over the physical reminder of that day, "I was attacked as I made my way to Skyrim and … well," her lips twitched, revealing one of her fangs.

"Why did you hide it from us?" Jenassa said, gently stroking Sofie's head to try and calm the girl.

Looking down Charlya hugged herself tightly, "I was afraid you'd hate me like so many others. I didn't tell you because … because I thought I'd lose you." Her voice caught in her throat, clenching her eyes tight to stop the tears that fell, "I was afraid of losing the only happiness in my life, scared of losing the only thing that kept me going in this gods-forsaken land." Charlya rubbed her eyes, trying desperately to be rid of the tears that wouldn't stop. Surely this was it, once their shock wore off, it would be replaced with hatred. Soon the shouts of _"Monster!"_ and _"Get away from us!"_ and "_We hate you!"_ would start. The mere thought of it was enough to tear the Dunmer Vampire's heart to pieces. After several seconds of silence, Charlya couldn't take it anymore, "I ... I'm sorry," she turned, returning to her feet as she did so and made to leave.

Sofie crying "NO MAMA!" stopped her in her tracks, the Nord girl running up and wrapping her arms around the vampire's waist, "Don't leave, Mama."

"You ... you don't hate me?" Charlya croaked out, turning around and dropping to the ground, "You don't … fear me?"

Sofie shook her head, throwing her little arms around the older woman's neck, "I… I was scared, at first. But then I remember you saved me and took me off the cold streets and gave me a home and brought me presents and loved me like my own mother," the little girl clung tighter to her mama's neck, "You're my mama and I love you!" Runa ran over and joined Sofie in hugging their Dunmer mother, "I love you too mama!"

Charlya wrapped her daughters up in her arms, clinging to them as her body was wracked with sobs. Charlya lift Jenassa left her head, her orange eyes staring into her wife's red ones. "I …" Jenassa silenced her with a deep, passionate kiss shivering slightly when the other Dunmer's tongue brushed against a fang. The Dunmer vampire could feel the tears cascade down her face as she sobbed into the kiss, clinging to her loving family. They stayed there for hours, simply holding each other well into the night. When the tears finally died down, they headed back inside the manor, sharing a quiet and somber meal. Exhausted by day's events, they all went to bed for a fitful slumber.

Charlya jolted awake later that night, her breath ragged from the nightmare that had plagued her, looking over to her side to reassure herself that Jenassa was there and was safe. Climbing out of bed, the Dunmer vampire walked over to the wash basin, splashing some water onto her face. Suddenly Sofie yelled "MAMA!" and Charlya rushed over to check on her daughter, gathering the little girl up in her arms as she shivered and cried in her sleep. Charlya held Sofie as she stood, walking over to Runa's bed as the other girl started to whimper quietly and picked her up in her other arm, grateful for her supernatural strength. She returned to the bed she shared with Jenassa, the other Dunmer taking Runa and holding her tight.

The four of them lay there, curled up together as close as they could, the two older women gently stroking the little girls' head. "Shhhhhhh," Charlya murmured, as much to her whole family as to the little girl in her arms, "I'm here. I'll always be here for you."

Charlya began to hum that all too familiar tune that the girls loved to hear. Then she started to sing, her voice soft and soothing:

_Our hero, our hero claims a warrior's heart;  
__I tell you, I tell you the Dragonborn comes._

As she continued to sing, Sofie and Runa started to relax, their uncontrollable shaking dying down.

_With a voice wielding power of the ancient Nord art;  
__Believe, believe the Dragonborn comes;  
__It's an end to the evil of all Skyrim's foes;  
__Beware, beware the Dragonborn comes._

Charlya silently swore that she would always be there for her family, that she would always be there to save them and keep them safe:

_For the darkness has passed;  
__And the legend yet grows;  
__You'll know, you'll know the Dragonborn's come._

The Dunmer Vampire looked up into Jenassa's eyes, her orange eyes burning bright in the darkened room, "I'll never let anything harm you ever again. This I promise you."

* * *

_Author's notes_

I've been playing a lot of Skyrim lately, and as usual (for me anyway) my mind just continues to come up with stories for my character. So I decided to do a series of one-shots about my Dragonborn. The one-shots will be in no particular order, so I'll upload them as I think of them. I may also change the rating of the story depending on future chapters.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it and please feel free to leave feedback.


	2. Beginings

Beginnings

The first thing she became aware of was the splitting headache which pounded away at her skull. The second thing she was aware of was an insatiable need to feed and quench her thirst. Clenching her eyes tight, she resisted the urge to hiss as the smell of human blood assaulted her, clamping her hand over her mouth and hunching over. By Azura, how long had she been out? Didn't matter, she supposed, if she didn't control her urges … didn't control the bloodlust which threatened to overwhelm her … she would only end up doing something she'd regret. Giving into the bloodlust now would only get her killed, especially since she could feel her hands bound together and the steady rocking of a wagon beneath her.

"Hey, are you alright, dark elf?" she glanced up briefly to meet the gaze of a blond haired Nord, his hands bound just like hers. Not trusting her voice at the moment, she merely nodded, lowering her hands and straightening up. She took the time to briefly glance around, there were two other prisoners; one was dressed in ragged clothes, probably a thief, and the other … _"Shit,"_ she thought to herself. The last prisoner's clothing was finer, obviously he had been someone wealthy, perhaps even a Jarl, though he was gagged as well as bound. "So, were you trying to cross the border? Didn't see the Imperial ambush just like us … and the thief," the Nord who spoke earlier said.

She resisted the urge to hiss again, she actually had seen the ambush. In fact, she had planned on using the chaos of the ambush to feed on one of the soldiers. Clearly that had not gone as planned since she was now a captive of the Empire. "Damn Stormcloaks," the thief finally spoke up, "The Empire was lazy before you came along. I would have been able to steal that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell by now." The thief turned his attention to her, "Dark elf, we shouldn't be here. We're not the ones that the Empire wants, it's these rebels."

She remained quiet, merely closing her eyes and trying to tune out the conversation that the prisoners were having. Apparently the last prisoner – turns out she was right, he was a Jarl and not just any Jarl – was the Jarl of Windhelm, which made him Ulfric Stormcloak the leader of the rebellion in Skyrim. She sighed quietly, if the leader had been captured, then there was surely only one destination that awaited them now … Sovngarde. She shook her head, chuckling softly to herself, these _Nords_ may have Sovngarde waiting for them but she had an eternity of torment within an Oblivion plane waiting for her. She breathed in deeply, barely restraining herself from having one last meal before … "The headsman is waiting, General Tullius, sir!" one of the Imperial soldiers shouted. She frowned; well there was no question of what was going to happen now … not that she was surprised.

She opened her eyes when she felt the wagon stop, rising to her feet and stepping off. The other prisoners stepped toward the executioner's block when their name was called. All except the thief, who decided to try to run … and was promptly filled with arrows from Imperial Archers. "Wait, you, dark elf," the Imperial soldier who had been calling the names said, "What's your name?"

"Charlya," she muttered, keeping her head tilted down so they couldn't see her face.

"Another refugee then? The gods really have abandoned your people, dark elf," the soldier said, "Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list."

The Imperial captain merely grunted, "She goes to the block with the rest of them."

As Charlya turned to follow the captain, she heard the other soldier say, "I'm sorry. I'll make sure that your bones are returned to Morrowind." She chuckled to herself, there wouldn't be any bones left once she was dead. All that would remain of her would be ashes, and then no one would give a damn about her remains.

She looked up into the sky as she stood with the other prisoners before the executioner's block, feeling the sun beat down on her. Normally she would curse the sun, as a vampire it constantly burned her skin, harmless but endlessly irritating. She had found it curious that she didn't turn into a pile of ash when she stepped out into the sun like so many other Vampires. She had seen so many careless Vampires burn to ash in the sunlight. So what set her apart from them? Had there been something different about the Vampire that had turned her? Had she been blessed – cursed? – with the ability to resist the sun? Did the Divines have plans for her or did the Daedra need a new source of entertainment? She didn't know, but it certainly made it easier for her to hide. Regardless, it was the last chance she'd have to experience the feeling of the sun, and for good or ill she would savor it.

In the background, Tullius was addressing Ulfric, not that she cared about what was being said. The Civil War had never been a concern for her, though truthfully she hadn't really been in Skyrim long enough to truly pick a side. She had been more concerned with hiding her Vampiric nature and just trying to survive. She did find it odd, though, that the Empire was going to kill Ulfric. Sure it would demoralize the rebels, send them into disarray without their leader. Yet it was just as likely that they would create a martyr and send even more Nords flocking to the Stormcloak banner. This was either a very smart move on Tullius' part or a very idiotic decision. Of course, it was just as likely that Tullius was being pressured into this course of action by the Thalmor. This did nothing to dislodge the appearance of Tullius being a Thalmor puppet. She wondered silently if Tullius truly was with the Thalmor or if he was just buying time and waiting to turn against them.

Charlya tuned out the Priest of Arkay who was giving last rites, instead giving a silent prayer to Azura, the Daedric Prince of Dawn and Dusk. She had never believed in the Nine Divines. Like all her ancestors before her, Charlya worshipped Azura. This was why the banning of Talos worship never bothered her. There were plenty of reasons that she would be arrested by the Thalmor, Daedra worship and Vampirism chief among them. Never mind the fact that Azura is considered one of the only "good" Daedra, and yes, many of the other Daedric Princes are evil. Besides, many citizens thought that she was evil merely because she was a Vampire, so why should she be bothered with worshiping something else that was considered evil. Even if she did believe in the Nine Divines, none of them had a right to her soul when she died. Long ago, she had often prayed to be taken to Moonshadow, Azura's plane within Oblivion … then she became a Vampire and all that changed.

The smell of freshly split blood assaulted her senses and she knew the first prisoner had been killed. She grit her teeth, willing herself to remain calm and not feed on the corpse like some animal. "Dark elf, you're next!" the Imperial captain said, breaking Charlya from her thoughts. Something sounded in the distance, something eerily similar to a roar, though everyone ignored it, "I said … next … prisoner!"

Charlya calmly walked over, trying to keep some shred of dignity as she knelt and placed her head on the block, staring up at the executioner. She prayed one last time for Azura to take her soul, knowing that it wouldn't matter but she might as well hope. It was strange, though, she knew her end was near, yet she wasn't fearful. She knew what afterlife awaited her, eternal servitude in Coldharbour, and she expected to be anxious, even downright terrified to meet it so soon. Yet there was only calm instead of the raging inferno of emotions that she expected. That same roar from earlier sounded again, though this time it was closer and then something flew over the mountains. It was large and winged and black and it landed atop the tower behind the executioner. The beast roared and fire rained down upon them.

The force of the dragon's attack, for what else could the beast be, threw Charlya from the block and she hit the ground hard. Her vision was blurry, and even through the ringing in her ears she could hear the screams as people ran. Someone pulled her to her feet and dragged her along; Charlya stumbled along unable to keep her balance. She nearly tumbled to the ground as whoever held her pushed her into a nearby tower. She shook her head, finally dispelling the blurriness of her vision and the ringing in her ears, only to be pushed up the stairs of the tower, "Come on, we need to escape," a Nord said from behind her. Before they could even take two steps up the stairs, the dragon burst through the wall of the second landing. The beast unleashed its fire, killing those unfortunate enough to be there and flying off to continue its rampage.

Charlya jumped through the hole the dragon had created, her supernatural reflexes easily carrying her to the building across the way. Unfortunately with her hands still bound she couldn't maintain her balance and stumbled to the ground, rolling along the floor. Falling through a hole in the floor Charlya screamed as she crashed to the ground below. Coughing she hastily picked herself up, running out of the building and into an Imperial soldier, "Still alive are you?" That was the voice of the Imperial who had been calling names before the dragon attacked and everything went to hell. "Come on, stay with me if you want to keep it that way!" Once again Charlya found herself being dragged along, barely staying on her feet.

The Imperial pressed her up against a wall, covering her body with his as the dragon landed above them. "_Yol_ … _Toor_ … _Shul_!" She must have hit her head harder than she thought, there was no way the dragon spoke – shouted – before the flames burst from its maw. They ran as the dragon took to the sky again, barely making it to the town's keep.

"Out of my way, Hadvar!" someone shouted as they ran past, "We're getting out of here!"

"Fine you bloody Stormcloak traitor! I hope the dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!" The Imperial, Hadvar, shouted as he ran to the Keep's entrance, "Come on, dark elf!" Charlya glanced at the Nord rebels who ran past, briefly entertaining the idea of escaping with them instead. It really didn't matter who she escaped with, to be truthful. It wasn't like one increased the chances of survival over the other one. And it wasn't like she was going to join their side in the Civil War when this was all over. She heard the dragon roar overhead, ducking her head down and muttering under her breath even as she followed Hadvar into the keep.

Charlya slumped forward, trying to catch her breath as the Keep's doors slammed shut, grateful for the small reprieve. She didn't even look up when Hadvar cut her loose, merely rubbing her wrists as he suggested looking for some spare armor. Glancing around, she noted that they were the only ones there and discreetly licked her lips. She was extremely weakened, after not having fed in gods only knew how long, and if she drained Hadvar of his blood then she'd be stronger than she was now. She shook her head, ironically Hadvar was one of the only reasons she was still alive. If nothing else, she owed him for that and wouldn't feed on him no matter how hungry she was. Instead, she set about searching the room, finding a full set of Imperial light armor in a chest. She quickly discarded the ragged clothes she had been wearing, not caring about Hadvar watching her, and tugged on the armor she found. Charlya picked up an iron sword which hung on a weapons rack, frowning as she gave it a few test swings. It had been awhile since she used a sword instead of a dagger; still, it was better than no weapon.

Nodding at Hadvar, the two moved out into the hallway, hugging the wall and remaining as silent as possible. They paused at the gate to the next room, hearing voices on the other side, "Stormcloaks," Hadvar muttered, "Maybe they won't attack us."

Charlya grunted in response, not believing that even though there was a dragon attacking that the Stormcloaks would just help two Imperials. Well, one Imperial and an escaped prisoner, but since Charlya was wearing Imperial armor the Stormcloaks would only see two enemy soldiers. Instead, she crouched low as Hadvar moved into the room, making sure to stay in the shadows and keeping the entire room in her field of vision. Predictably, the Stormcloaks took one look at Hadvar and sprang to attack him, drawing their weapons and charging. Charlya was the first to react, leaping from her hiding place and burying her sword in the chest of one Stormcloak. Before the other Stormcloak could react, she withdrew her blade and spun, cutting at the legs of the Stormcloak soldier. His tendons severed, the Stormcloak dropped to the ground as Hadvar advance to deal the final blow.

"No! Wait!" Charlya yelled, grabbing Hadvar's arm before he could strike, "Don't kill him, I need …" she snapped her mouth shut before she said anything further, mentally cursing for nearly giving herself away. The short and brief battle had set her Vampiric urges ablaze, the sweet aroma of freshly spilt blood overwhelming her senses. She needed to feed; otherwise she really would tear into Hadvar and drain him dry. She had to think of a reason for not killing the Stormcloak without giving her Vampirism away and she also needed to get the Imperial away so she could feed. "Scout ahead, I … I might be able to get some information out of him."

Hadvar merely gave her a skeptical look, and for several seconds Charlya thought he wouldn't listen to her. "Make it fast," he said, moving toward another gate and stepping into the passageway, "We don't have a lot of time."

When Hadvar was out sight, the Dunmer vampire turned her attention back to the Stormcloak soldier, who had managed to push himself up against the wall. Sheathing her sword as she walked over to him, she straddled his waist, making sure to pin his arms to his sides. "I don't know what you plan, Imperial," the Stormcloak spat, "But you're not getting anything out of me."

Charlya grinned, purposefully revealing one of her fangs, outright laughing when the Stormcloak's eyes widened in fear. She clamped her hand over the soldier's mouth before he could scream, wrenching his head to the side and exposing his neck. She sank her fangs into the Stormcloak, moaning in pure bliss as the fresh blood flooded into her mouth. Knowing she didn't have the time to properly savor her meal, Charlya gulped down mouthfuls and quickly drained the soldier under her. Rising to her feet, Charlya licked the blood off her fangs, feeling reenergized and stronger than she had felt in days. She wasn't at full strength yet and would require a few more feedings before she was. However, she wasn't suffering from blood-starvation and had full control over her urges. Now, at least, she wouldn't fly into a mindless rage and slaughter everyone in her path to get at some blood.

The ground shook as the dragon roared outside, and she could hear the distinct sound of stone falling as part of the building collapsed. She rushed out of the passageway, meeting up with Hadvar further down. The Imperial was crouched next to a door which had been lucky enough not to be affected by the collapse, and she crouched down on the opposite side of the door. They inched the door open, being as silent as possible as they heard more Stormcloaks within. Creeping along Charlya snuck up on an unaware Stormcloak, in one smooth motion she clamped her hand over the Stormcloak's mouth and plunged her blade through his chest. She gently lowered the corpse to the floor and withdrew her sword, readying to pounce on the other soldier. Within moments there was another dead Stormcloak soldier, and she and Hadvar were rummaging through some crates searching for any supplies. Finding only a few potions, they continued further down into the keep, coming to what Charlya assumed was the torture room.

Predictably there were more Stormcloaks down here, though the Imperial torturer was doing a fine job of fending them off. With the Stormcloaks' attention on the torturer, it was a simple matter for Charlya to sneak up on them and stab them in the back. While Hadvar talked with the Imperial torturer, Charlya took the time to look around the room. Pocketing some gold coins just lying there, she picked up an iron dagger, twirling it around a few times to test it. The dagger was heavier than what she was used to. Still, she felt more comfortable with a dagger in her hand instead of a sword. There were also some empty alchemist bottles that she could use and if she was lucky … perfect! Hadvar and the torturer were arguing about something and not paying attention to her. She grabbed the two dead Stormcloaks and dragged the corpses over to the alchemist station, making sure to stay out of sight. She sank her fangs into the neck of one of the corpses, gulping down mouthfuls and draining the body dry.

She had always despised feeding on dead people; the blood always tasted off and left a bitter taste in her mouth. Besides, she wasn't some common animal that fed on anything that it could. Unfortunately, she really didn't have much choice at the moment. She'd rather feed and regain her strength, than take the chance of not being able to find someone for days. She had already made that mistake once and she had no plans of making it again. Charlya wiped her mouth clean, now she really didn't care if both Imperials discovered her vampirism. Even with the torturer's magic and Hadvar's obvious skill, they were no match for her now that she was fully recovered. Still though, the Imperials had their uses and there was no need to discard them or purposefully reveal her Vampirism. Doing her level best to ignore that _off_ taste lingering in her mouth, she discarded the corpse she just fed from. Gripping the arm of the other corpse, Charlya slit the wrist and held it over one of the alchemist bottles. Once the bottles were full of blood, she stashed them in an empty rucksack and slung it over her shoulder.

Charlya rolled her eyes as she and Hadvar continued on without the Imperial torturer. If the fool didn't believe them about the dragon and wanted to risk his life, that was his problem not theirs. She nearly sighed when the next room they came to was, once again, filled with Stormcloaks. Motioning Hadvar to stay put, Charlya crept into the room, sticking to the shadows and readying her newly found dagger. One by one, she snuck up on each of the Stormcloaks and slit their throat, dragging the corpse into the shadows to hide it. Once she was done, Charlya motioned for Hadvar to join her as she looted the bodies. Finding a bow and a quiver full of arrows she fastened them to her back, as they made their way into the underground tunnels beneath the keep. At least it appeared that there were no more Stormcloaks to fight, the tunnels just might be … great, _webs_ … which could only mean the tunnels were infested by giant Frostbite Spiders. She _hated_ Frostbite Spiders. Though the spiders where generally easier to kill, all it took was a well-placed arrow, their numbers sometimes made killing them quickly difficult.

It was a small consolation that between her and Hadvar the spiders fell quickly to bow and blade. Luckily there were fewer Frostbite Spiders than she first thought, and they continued through the tunnels unimpeded. The smell of fresh air assaulted her enhanced senses long before the exit to the tunnels could be seen. Charlya cringed as the familiar sensation of the burning sun hit her, raising her hand to cover her eyes. She could barely see the black dragon flying off into the distance, its roar echoing around her. She wondered if this was only the beginning.

* * *

Author's Note

The inspiration for this chapter was fairly straight forward, what would the escape from Helgen be like for a Vampire. Since my headcannon for my character has her being a vampire since before she made it to Skyrim, she wouldn't have been captured so easily. So, I figured if she hadn't fed in a few days and was weakened, it would be easier to capture her.

Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Reviews and feedback are always welcome!


	3. The Silver Hand

_The Silver Hand_

"I hope you know this is _your_ fault, _leech_."

"_My_ fault? I'm not the one who walked us into an ambush, _dog_."

Charlya stood with her back to a red-headed female Nord, Aela the Huntress of the Companions, surrounded by enemies. Charlya repressed a sigh; this is what she got for being generous. Several months ago she had decided to join the group known as The Companions, more out of boredom and a need for gold than any sense of honor. Still, it had been an entertaining experience all the same despite the _smell_ that assaulted her. Charlya had no doubt that had she not had a supernatural sense of smell, she never would have noticed. She had, for the most part, been able to hide her vampirism from the younger recruits and only the most senior members were able to tell. Though like her, they had been able to smell it on her the moment she had walked into their hall. Oddly enough she had made plenty of friends – though she used the term loosely – with many members of the Companions. Even if the most senior members didn't fully trust her … she had proven her worth several dozen times over.

She had proven herself enough that the inner circle had decided to share their "gift" with her. Not that she would ever lower herself and become a werewolf, but the sentiment had been … sweet? She had adapted to the life of a vampire and wasn't sure if she could ever return to normal, or as normal as being a werewolf could be. Besides, she was immortal; short of having her head chopped off, she couldn't die. So why would she want to be turned into a mortal werewolf? Surprisingly, they took her refusal of their "gift" rather well, though she could have sworn that Aela had been disappointed with her decision. When asked why she was declining their offer, the Dunmer merely transformed into her Vampire Lord form. It was a risk to take, as the transformed Aela could easily have attacked her … but in the end it had paid off. She had gone on to explain that she wasn't ashamed of who and what she was, that was something both Skjor and Aela could understand and respect. Afterwards it became an unspoken rule; she didn't talk about them being werewolves and they didn't talk about her being a vampire.

Several days later Aela approached the Dunmer vampire with a new mission. Apparently, Skjor had gone off by himself to scout a fort of werewolf hunters called the Silver Hand and hadn't returned. Feeling generous, Charlya agreed to accompany Aela to the fort, figuring that between a werewolf and a vampire it would be simple. She should have known nothing was ever simple. This brought them to their current predicament; immediately entering the fort the two women were surrounded by the Silver Hand. The Dunmer woman chuckled slightly; it was almost a fair fight … for them, anyway. "I bet I can kill more than you," Aela said.

Charlya chuckled in response, "Looser buys at the Bannered Mare?"

A werewolf's howl was the only response that she got, and Charlya took that as a sign to transform into her Vampire Lord form. Leaping into the ranks of the Silver Hand, Charlya speared her claws through the chest of one and decapitated another. Grabbing the wrist of another she pulled the unfortunate soul toward her, burying her razor sharp fangs into the person's neck. It took seconds to drain the body of blood and Charlya threw the lifeless husk into another enemy. She was on them in seconds, cleaving limbs with her claws and tearing chunks of flesh out with her fangs, draining them of blood whenever she felt like it. Charlya chuckled, this was almost too easy. She had expected more from a group who specialized in hunting werewolves. True, she was so much more powerful than a mere werewolf and she doubted the Silver Hand had any experience with dealing with a vampire such as herself – or any vampire really. Apparently what the Silver Hand lacked in experience they made up for in numbers … Charlya had actually lost count of the number of her kills.

Charlya frowned as she and Aela continued deeper into the fort, the bodies of dead werewolves strung up in cages like common animals with many showing signs of torture. Aela growled deep in her throat, hackles raised and claws flexing, clearly angered by the treatment of her fellow werewolves, and Charlya wasn't much better herself. The Vampire Lord clenched her own claws, barely containing her own anger as she saw other werewolves in human form dangling from chains, wounds from torture clearly visible. While it was true that many werewolves couldn't control themselves when they transformed, they were still alive and certainly didn't deserve to be hunted down and killed. Besides, was a normal wolf hated and hunted down for its nature? Of course, normal wolves didn't hunt and kill people … but that was beside the point. The point was, when they weren't in their beast form, werewolves were just like any other person. While she herself had – on occasion – butchered her enemies and drained them of blood, even she wouldn't torture her enemies. It wasn't the first time that she wondered who the real monsters were: vampires, werewolves or humans?

Charlya summoned her magic, waving her hand and blasting the door apart with a burst of telekinetic power. Aela charged in first, the werewolf howling in rage, ripping apart any who got too close. Charlya dashed into the middle of a group, racking her claws across the chest of a Silver Hand. Her wings snapped out, the clawed tips lodging within the throats of two others, even as she snapped the neck of another. The Dunmer vampire turned to face who she assumed was the leader, if the full set of steel armor and the gleaming silver greatsword were anything to go by. With a yell, the Silver Hand leader charged, swinging the greatsword in a wide arc. Charlya backed away, twisting and turning to dodge the attacks, occasionally using her claws to deflect sword strikes. Charlya didn't even bother to avoid the next strike, briefly morphing into a swarm of bats, the silver greatsword passing harmlessly through the cluster of bats. The Vampire Lord hissed as her body reformed, clamping a hand around the leader's wrist and twisted, the silver greatsword clattering to the ground.

The Silver Hand leader screamed as Charlya sank her fangs into his neck, taking her time to drain him of his blood. Normally she would be as fast as possible, but she wasn't in a generous mood right now. She wanted the Silver Hand leader to suffer, to pay for his treatment of werewolves, make him feel what all the werewolves felt as they were being tortured. The Dunmer vampire extracted her fangs, in a rare show of malicious behavior she had taken enough blood to ensure the Silver Hand leader would die but not enough to make it a fast death. Charlya threw the dying leader into the wall, nearly grinning as she heard a satisfying crunch of bones breaking, and turned to face Aela.

The werewolf was crouched over the lifeless body of Skjor, a keening howl reverberating around the room. As Charlya approached, however, that mournful howl turned into one of pure rage. Normally the Dunmer Vampire wouldn't care so much and just let Aela rampage through a horde of enemies until the Nord werewolf was spent. That wasn't an option this time, seeing as they had already killed all of the Silver Hand members who had resided in the fort. Which left the seemingly impossible task of calming a raging werewolf down. Great, just great, how in Azura's name was she going to do that? The backhand caught her off guard, sending Charlya flying into a wall. The Dunmer vampire hissed, crouching low as the Nordic werewolf turned to face her. With no other outlet for her rage, Aela turned on the only person she could … Charlya. "Aela, calm down!" she yelled, leaping over the charging werewolf.

Howling in rage Aela charged again, Charlya leaping to the side to avoid the werewolf. Aela was on her in seconds, forcing Charlya to grab the werewolf's arms and digging her clawed feet into the floor. "You're better than this! Don't let the beast control you!" Aela merely snarled in response, snapping her maw trying to tear Charlya's throat out. The Dunmer vampire didn't want to hurt Aela, even if it appeared that was the only thing to do. Still, there might be one thing that she could attempt. She had never tried it on a werewolf – there had never been a reason to – and there was certainly no guarantee it would actually work. However, it just might calm the raging werewolf down enough for Aela to regain control of herself. Inhaling Charlya summoned her Thu'um, "_Kaan_ … _Drem Ov_!"

The blue wave of pure energy blasted into Aela, yet unlike many of her Dragon Shouts, it did no physical damage to the werewolf. In fact, the only indication that the Thu'um did anything was that Aela was no longer trying to tear into her throat. Well, it wasn't like Charlya had expected it to work properly, though this was a good sign. The Dunmer vampire inhaled again, "_Kaan_ … _Drem Ov_!" This time there was a more visible effect as the wave of energy washed over the werewolf, Aela's body relaxed, though the werewolf remained ready to fight. Charlya relaxed her own grip, ready to react if needed even as she breathed in deeply, "_Kaan_ … _Drem Ov_!" This time the Thu'um had its intended effect and the Nordic werewolf was fully calmed, whining almost pitifully. Charlya released Aela, the werewolf returning to crouch over Skjor's body, nudging it with her snout. Charlya shifted back to her mortal form, slowly approaching the mourning werewolf so as not to set her off again. The Dunmer woman lowered her hood and face mask as she knelt, gently placing a hand on the werewolf's shoulder.

Aela howled even as she shifted back to human form, her agonized scream sending a chill down Charlya's spine. "Those bastards!" Aela shouted, hands clenching into fists, "We'll kill every last one of them!"

Charlya wrapped her arm around the Nord woman, drawing Aela to her feet, "Yes, we will, but for now you need to calm down or risk turning again." One experience with an enraged werewolf was one too many in Charlya's opinion. "Rushing blindly in will only end in your death as well." This was one of many reasons why Charlya disliked werewolves; they were always leading with their emotions, always quick to anger and never thinking things through. "For now, let's return to Whiterun … maybe get a drink at the Bannered Mare." Charlya chuckled lightly, trying to lighten the mood, "I do believe you lost our bet."

Aela merely snorted, "I lost? I killed more than you so _you're_ buying." The Nord's voice lowered to a whisper as she continued, "We can't leave Skjor's body here."

Charlya frowned; friendly bantering aside she had always gotten along with Skjor. Like Aela, he wasn't ashamed of his beast blood like some of the other senior members of the Companions. For that alone, he had her respect, and he certainly deserved better than to rot here. Which left the question: what to do? If they were closer to Whiterun, then they could certainly take his body with them and give Skjor a proper burial. Unfortunately, they were nowhere near Whiterun, and a corpse would only slow them down. That left only one option, they had to burn his body here. Calling upon her magic, she levitated Skjor's body, left the fort and walked out into the woods.

It didn't take long for Charlya and Aela to create a funeral pyre in a small clearing, setting Skjor's body atop it. Stepping forward Charlya drew in a deep breath, summoning her Thu'um once again and drawing on all her power as Dovahkiin, "_Yol_ … _Toor Shul_!" The dragon's fire blasted out of her mouth, setting the funeral pyre aflame. She and Aela merely stood there, watching the flames blaze into the night sky even as wolves howled in the distance. By the time there was nothing left but ashes, the sun was starting to rise, and the two women started the long trek back to Whiterun.

Luckily the return trip was largely uneventful, though Charlya remained worried about Aela. The normally out-spoken and boisterous Huntress was silent and brooding. More than once Charlya wondered if the Nord Huntress would disappear while she rested and she was constantly checking Aela's bedroll every time the Dunmer heard a wolf howl. Charlya could see the anger deep within the other woman's eyes, twisting and churning and begging for release. It was a look that Charlya herself was intimately familiar with. She had that same look in her eyes when she had first been turned into a vampire. She had been so angry back then … angry at the vampire who turned her, angry at herself for being so weak, angry at the world for shunning her because of what she had been turned into. All of that anger seething within her had turned her into a hateful and spiteful woman. The only thing that had saved her was falling in love with – and later marrying – Jenassa and adopting the two little Nord girls, Sofie and Runa. Even then it had taken so long for all of that anger to slowly burn away, though she could still feel it from time to time. Certainly she didn't want Aela to go down that path; she just wasn't sure how to properly help the Nord werewolf.

Charlya sat across from Aela at the Bannered Mare, nursing a goblet of wine as the Nord downed several tankards of mead. Over the months she had been with the Companions the Dunmer woman was all too familiar with the type of drunk Aela was. The Huntress was normally a rambunctious drunk, often boasting about her latest kill or a recent battle. In fact, the two women had solidified their friendship when they had both gotten drunk and started a bar fight. They had been returning from their most recent mission, clearing a cave of predators, and had stopped at a small inn to rest. The night had started off innocently enough, with Aela challenging the Dunmer to a drinking contest. Halfway into the night they were well into their cups – just starting to get pleasantly drunk, their vampiric and werewolf blood always made it difficult to actually get drunk – when they had been interrupted by group of Nord men. They were a group of bandits or mercenaries, though they were clearly intoxicated, slurring all of their words as they spoke.

To this day Charlya couldn't remember what they had said to piss off both herself and Aela, though it could have just as easily been the fact that the group of men had interrupted their drinking contest. The Dunmer Vampire did remember one of the men grabbing her, which had set her off, punching the man's face and sending him flying back, knocking him out cold. Then the other drunken men surged forward, yelling and swinging. Aela had, at first, stayed out of what was happening, and then one of the men made the mistake of tumbling into the Nord woman and spilling her tankard of mead. Snarling the werewolf joined in, throwing the poor fool clear across the tavern. It was highly unfair as both she and Aela were only buzzed and not completely drunk while the men could barely stand on their feet. The fight – if it could be called that – barely lasted a minute and the Nord men were either out cold or moaning in pain. Several moments passed in silence, only broken by Aela's hearty laughter and the Huntress clapped Charlya on her back, turning back to the barkeep and motioning for another drink.

Charlya smiled at the memory as she sipped her wine, it figured that a werewolf and vampire would bond over a fight. Afterwards the two women continued to throw insults at each other, though the barbs lost all harmful intent. Many times the two would get drunk together, sometimes claiming loudly they were the better at something than the other, trading stories or making lewd jokes. Unfortunately there was none of that this time. Aela merely sat hunched over her tankard, downing her drinks in silence. The Dunmer woman could see the constantly churning anger behind the Nord's eyes, just waiting for the slightest excuse to release. Normally Charlya would consider starting a bar fight, that had always seemed to lift the Huntress' spirits in the past. This time, however, Charlya wasn't sure if Aela could properly control her anger and might seriously injure the poor fools. She was also unsure if Aela would finally give into her anger and run off to fight the Silver Hand alone. Which left Charlya with only one option, get the Nord werewolf drunk enough that she couldn't do anything that would harm others … or herself for that matter.

Charlya was sipping her fifth … or was it her twentieth, she had lost track awhile ago … goblet of wine, only now beginning to feel a slight buzz. Aela had easily downed four or five times that amount, well on her way to being intoxicated. "Fucking Silver Hand," Aela muttered, her hand clenched around her tankard and Charlya could see indents starting to form from the force. Ironically, a drunk werewolf was more dangerous than a sober one … at least when they were sober, werewolves had slightly better control over their strength, "We should have wiped them out long ago."

Aela knocked back another drink, crushed the tankard and threw it into the fire, watching the sparks fly into the air. "Divines damn Skjor!" Aela yelled, slamming a fist on the table, "He … he should have taken a Shield-sibling with him!" The Nord woman grabbed a bottle of mead and downed it in one gulp, throwing the empty bottle against a wall, "D … damn him! Talos damn him!" Charlya silently pushed another tankard of mead toward Aela, the werewolf downing it without a sound. "We'll make them pay," Aela growled under her breath, "By the time we're finished, there won't be single Silver Hand left." The Nord woman bolted to her feet, swaying slightly, "By Hircine I'll go kill them all myself if I have to!"

Charlya drew on a miniscule amount of her Thu'um, muttering "_Fus_!" under her breath. The tiny energy wave hit Aela, the Nord woman dropping into her chair with a heavy thump. The Dunmer vampire refilled the tankard of mead, as well as her own goblet of wine as Aela slouched forward. "He … he had been one of the strongest among us." the Nord woman glanced up into the Dunmer's eyes, barely restrained anger burning behind Aela's silver eyes, "Promise me sister, we'll slaughter them and make them tremble at the sight of us."

Charlya merely raised her goblet and dipped her head, "We will, sister, I can promise you that." She knocked back her drink, refilling the goblet and leaning back in her chair. She watched Aela consume several more drinks, trying to think of a way to get the Huntress' mind off the Silver Hand. "You know," Charlya said before her mind could catch up, "I do envy you werewolves." Not that that was something she would ever admit when she was sober, but alcohol had a way lowering one's defenses.

Aela grunted as she downed another tankard, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, "And … and why's that … leech?"

Charlya swirled her goblet, staring into the red wine, "At least when you die, you have the Hunting Grounds to look forward to. An eternal hunt by Hircine's side." The Dunmer frowned as she drank the wine, slamming the goblet back onto the table, "What do I have to look forward to if I'm ever killed?" She grabbed the wine bottle and took a long drag from it, not even bothering to refill her goblet, "An eternity of servitude in Coldharbour is what awaits me. Nothing more than a slave to Molag Bal." The Dunmer vampire drained the rest of the bottle, savoring the burn of wine down her throat.

"You'd think … think that the Dragonborn would get a better afterlife," Aela slurred, reaching for another tankard of mead.

Charlya frowned as she refilled her own goblet, maybe all of the alcohol was getting to her, but why had she never really thought about that before? For the longest time she had just assumed she would be going to Coldharbour and being a slave to Molag Bal. Then she killed Alduin the World Eater, joined the Thieves Guild and Dark Brotherhood and the Companions, and encountered all of the Daedric Princes. It's funny what the mind thinks up when it's drunk, "Now that I really think about it, I have no idea what afterlife awaits me." She took a long sip of wine before continuing, "I've helped all of the Daedric Princes, though only sworn service to one of them," she rested a hand on her chest, lightly tracing over the crest of the Nightingales which adorned her armor, "The only reason Molag Bal has any claim on my soul is because of my vampirism."

Aela took a long drag from her tankard, swaying slightly as she set it back onto the table, "If you're worried about your afterlife, then cure yourself."

The Dunmer vampire growled, her fangs glinting in the dim light of the fire, "If I didn't accept your beast blood what makes you think I'd want to purge my vampiric blood?" Charlya took a long drag from her own goblet, "Besides, I've accepted whatever afterlife awaits me." What she didn't say was that there were three (four, if she was being optimistic) possible afterlives: eternal servitude in Coldharbour as a slave to Molag Bal; being part of the Evergloam and attending Lady Nocturnal; entering the Void and serving the Night Mother and Sithis; or maybe she would be lucky, be brought to Moonshadow and watched over by Lady Azura. "Anyway, Sovngarde and the eternal feast within Shor's Hall never appealed to me."

Aela threw her head back and laughed, nearly toppling from her chair, "Well said, sister, well said." The Nord werewolf took another drag from her tankard, bracing one of her hands on the table to keep her steady, "Even when I was a little girl Sovngarde never appealed to me either. The unpredictable, the unexpected, the thrill of the hunt and battle, this is what makes life worth living." The Huntress stared into her tankard as she continued, her voice lowered, "Only Skjor ever understood why the beast blood was a blessing and not a curse."

"Well then," Charlya said, raising her goblet, "Here's to the thrill of life."

Aela raised her tankard, slurring as she spoke, "And to all who have gone before us."

The two women downed their drinks and slammed their cups onto the table, sitting in comfortable silence for several minutes. Charlya was just starting to relax, finally pleasantly drunk, when Aela spoke up, "We haven't had a drinking contest in a while."

Charlya threw her head back laughing, "You're already drunk! I doubt you could handle much more."

Out of the corner of her eye Charlya saw a group of Nords approach them, all of whom wore the armor of mercenaries and only a few appeared to be drunk. The Dunmer sighed heavily; there went any hope for an uneventful evening. One of the Nord men stepped forward, presumably the leader, "Your kind aren't welcome here." The Dunmer merely chuckled; clearly this group was new to Whiterun and didn't know who they were talking to. "Leave before we teach you a lesson."

Charlya gracefully rose to her feet, swaying only slightly, as Aela rose to her own feet, though less gracefully, to stand next to the Dunmer. The group stared at the two women for several heartbeats … then one of them made a grab at Charlya. She responded by punching the fool's face in, which in turn set everyone else off. Even completely drunk and swaying on their feet, both she and Aela were more than a match for the mercenaries. Since they were drunk and all of their inhibitions were gone, they didn't hold any of their strength back. Charlya was silently pleased to see the Huntress back to her usual self, a smile gracing the Nord woman's face and laughing as she brawled. Charlya let loose her own laugh as she punched another man's face in, her fangs flashing in the fire's light as a grin split her face.

Several minutes later Charlya and Aela were stumbling out of the Bannered Mare, leaning heavily against each other. Occasionally drinking out of the bottles clutched in their hands, they drunkenly sang "Ragnar the Red" as they returned to Breezehome.

* * *

This was one of those chapters that took on a life of its own as I wrote it. I was planning on making the tavern scene more humorous than it turned out to be ... but I think it's better this way. On another note, I can't be the only one who wished they could progress the Companions storyline without becoming a werewolf. No? Just me? Ok than, but really this is what I imagine it would be like for a vampire. I know I'm not the only one who wishes Aela would transform in game, but I also felt like there should have been a greater reaction to finding Skjor.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	4. Tyranny of the Sun I: Awakening

_Tyranny of the Sun I_  
_Awakening_

Charlya moved along the cave's wall, sticking to the shadows, her Nightingale bow drawn and ready. She could hear voices further in the cave and while she couldn't clearly see them, she could smell them. Vampires. Well, it wasn't like she wasn't expecting them; she had been told there were vampires looking for something within the cave system. She had been given orders to find whatever it was, kill the vampires, and then report back. Not that she was going to really follow the orders given to her. Yes, she would find whatever it was and kill the vampires if she had to – it wouldn't be the first time she's fought against her own kind – but she certainly wouldn't be reporting back. She had no interest in returning to a group of vampire hunters.

During her travels she had been hearing rumors of increased vampire attacks all throughout Skyrim. Then, when she was in Riften after completing her latest job for the Thieves Guild, an Orc approached her and told her of a group being reformed. This group was called the Dawnguard and they specialized in hunting vampires. The irony that she, a vampire, was approached by a member of this group, who clearly didn't recognize what she was, was not lost on her. It was, perhaps, one of the many reasons why she loved the Nightingale armor, the hood and face mask hid her vampiric features nicely. Having no pressing jobs to do for the Guild, being the Guild Master had its advantages, she decided to investigate the Dawnguard. As the old saying goes, "Know thy enemy." What she found was a lot less than what she had expected to find.

Fort Dawnguard was in massive disrepair, and there were hardly enough members to call it an "official" group. Apparently, when the Orc that she had met said it was being reformed and looking for members, what he really meant was that they were just starting and desperate for anyone willing to join. When she entered the fort, the man who was reforming the Dawnguard, a Redguard named Isran, was talking to a Vigilant of Stendarr. The Vigilant, who she learned was named Tolan, was telling Isran that vampires had attacked the Hall of the Vigilant and killed everyone there. Apparently the only reason that Tolan had survived was because of that he had been away. Charlya was grateful for the face mask that covered the lower half of her face; otherwise they would have seen the grin that adorned her face at the news.

The Vigilants of Stendarr were nothing more than overly zealous xenophobes who hunted down and killed anything that preyed on mortals. The Vigilants worshipped the Divine Stendarr, God of Mercy, yet they were anything but merciful when it came to supernatural beings. The Vigilants hunted down and killed vampires, werewolves, witches, and even Daedra worshipers. Charlya knew there were plenty of vampires that hunted and killed for the fun of it, she had fought against many of them. However, the Dunmer woman also knew there were vampires and werewolves who only wanted to be left alone, to live their lives in peace. She wouldn't have any problems with the Vigilants if all they hunted were the supernatural beings that preyed on mortals. But no, the Vigilants didn't care about the fact that a vampire lived peacefully with other mortals … they still killed them. They treated mortals who worshipped the Daedra the same way. All the Vigilants cared about was killing those they deemed "impure," it didn't matter how one lived their life. As the Vigilants themselves were fond of saying, "Live in the light, or we'll drag you back into it."

Charlya was lucky enough to only run into a group of Vigilants once. She had just visited the Shrine of Azura. She often went there to pray and meditate, and was heading down the mountain planning to return to Windstad Manor to spend time with her family. A small group of Vigilants had been camped out at the base of the mountain. Because of her Nightingale armor, they couldn't tell that she was a vampire. One of the Vigilants must have sensed Azura's Star from within Charlya's knapsack as she passed by them, and demanded that she hand over the Daedric artifact. Naturally she had refused to hand it over to them and tried to reason with them. Of course they didn't care that Azura was widely considered to be one of the only "good" Daedra, and her artifact was only useful to those with magical talent. Apparently the Vigilants not only lacked mercy – which was ironic in and of itself – but also patience as they decided to take the artifact by force and Charlya was forced to defend herself.

So Charlya could safely say that, even though she only had a very brief encounter with Isran, the Dunmer vampire had a feeling that the Dawnguard would be no better than the Vigilants. When she had asked where all of these vampires were coming from, Isran replied that he wished he knew but didn't care and only wished to see all bloodsuckers dead. This had brought them to the next topic of why the Hall of the Vigilant had been attacked in the first place. Apparently the Vigilants were investigating rumors about a "vampire artifact" within Dimhollow Crypt, and the vampires must have been looking for this "artifact" as well. Isan proceeded to order – ignoring the fact that she hadn't joined the Dawnguard and didn't have to do anything that he wanted – her to investigate the crypt and kill any vampires still there. The only reason she had made her way to Dimhollow Crypt was to keep this "artifact" away from both vampire and Dawnguard's hands. If it was a powerful artifact she didn't want any vampire to use it for personal gain and she certainly didn't want the Dawnguard to use it against vampirekind.

So here she was, slinking through a cave and silently killing the vampires she came across. Charlya sighed as she passed through a gate, the cave tunnel turning into an ancient Nordic ruin somewhere along the line. Not only did she have to worry about vampires, but Draugr trying to kill her as well … why was nothing ever simple? Luckily there were plenty of shadows for her to hide in, and she took her time to fire her ebony arrows. It must have been hours since she had entered the ruins when she came across a door that appeared much older than the Nordic ruins around it. The room beyond was definitely much older, just how old Charlya was unsure. It must have been ancient though, considering the Nordic ruins had been built around it. Charlya stepped out onto what appeared to be a balcony; the rest of the vast cavern coming into view. Below her, Charlya could see two vampires walk across a narrow bridge and she readied her bow. Notching an ebony arrow, the Dunmer woman drew back the bow, taking a deep breath as she aimed at one of the vampire's heads, and released the string. The vampire crumpled to the ground as the arrow struck, turning into a pile of ash even as the other vampire spun around. Charlya quickly notched and fired another arrow, the vampire turning into ash as the arrow struck.

Returning her Nightingale bow to her back, Charlya jumped down from the balcony and crossed the bridge to the structure that stood in the center of the cavern. Charlya walked up to a small stone pillar, glancing at the braziers that surrounded it as she took a closer look. A button sat atop it and she had been in enough Nordic ruins to expect a trap. Still though, if this was what the vampires had been searching for then there was only one thing to do. Placing her hand on the button, Charlya repressed a scream as a metal spike shot through her hand, her blood pouring out of the wound and down the pillar. She took several steps back, healing the hole in her hand as purple flames rose out of grooves in the floor, lighting up some of the braziers as it did. Of course it was a puzzle, because it wouldn't be an ancient ruin without at least one puzzle. It was a simple matter to move the other braziers until they too were lit with purple fire, and the floor sank to reveal a monolith. Part of the monolith slid down and a Nord woman dropped out of it.

The woman was on her hands and knees, gasping and coughing even as one of her hands reached for her throat. The mysterious woman looked up, Charlya sucked in a breath as she stared into glowing orange eyes … eyes almost identical to Charlya's own. Charlya reached into her knapsack, removing one of her blood potions and knelt in front of the coughing woman. "Here, drink this, it should help," the Dunmer said as she pressed the potion into the other woman's hand. The Nord woman sat against the stone monolith as she drank, "Are you feeling better?" Charlya asked once the other woman finished drinking.

The Nord cleared her throat, shaking her head slightly before speaking, "I … yes, thank you." She stared at Charlya for several seconds before saying, "You're … not who I was expecting."

Charlya chuckled in response, "And who were you expecting?"

The other woman was silent for several seconds, clearly trying to gather her thoughts, "I was expecting someone from my family, at least. You're not … one of my father's little acolytes, are you?"

The Dunmer woman raised an eyebrow, "Who's your father?"

Charlya swore she could see confusion within the other vampire's eyes, as if she was unsure about anything. Which wouldn't surprise Charlya; whoever this vampire was she had been locked inside a stone coffin for who knows how long. "He's a powerful man … or was … or still is. I'm surprised another vampire hasn't heard about him."

Charlya lowered her hood and face mask, no sense in denying what she was when she had so easily recognized what the other woman was as well. "So why were you locked away in there? And I'm Charlya, by the way."

"Serana, and that's … complicated." She drew in a deep breath, placing a palm on her head. "Look, it's nothing personal, I just … don't know if I can trust you."

Charlya nodded slightly. If she had just awoken after who knows how long, she wouldn't be too trusting either. "So, how long were you locked away?"

Serana sighed, "I … I don't know. Who's the High King?"

"That's debatable," Charlya chuckled.

"A war? Well, at least it's not been boring while I've been away," Serana remarked, "So, who are the contenders?"

The Dunmer woman ran a hand through her hair as she answered. "Ulfric Stormcloak leads a rebellion against the Empire who supports Elisif the Fair."

Serana cocked her head to the side, clearly confused, "There's … an empire?" The Dunmer woman merely nodded her head and Serana buried her face in her hands. "So much time must have passed." Charlya placed a hand on Serana's shoulder, offering silent support to the distraught vampire. "Please, I know you have questions and no reason to trust me but … could you help me home. There should still be a castle off the coast by Solitude," Serana pleaded.

Charlya returned to her feet, holding out her hand to Serana. "Well then, there's a long journey ahead of us." Serana took her hand and the Dunmer woman drew the elder vampire to her feet, "First though, we should get out of this tomb."

"I hope you know how," Serana spoke as the Dunmer raised her face mask and hood, "because everything's changed since I've been locked away."

Charlya turned in a slow circle, looking around the cavern as she did so. Doubling back through the cave was out of the question, she had no desire to spend another few hours in the cave. Besides, if this ruin was anything like the other Nordic crypts that she'd been through, there was a faster way to the surface. The trick was just to know what to look for and … ah, there it was. There was another bridge opposite the one that she had crossed earlier, leading further into the ruins and – hopefully – a faster way to the surface. Motioning Serana to follow her, the two vampires crossed the bridge as the Dunmer drew her Nightingale bow. No sooner had they crossed the bridge, then two statues burst to life, Serana yelling out, "Gargoyles!"

In one fluid motion, Charlya notched and fired an ebony arrow, yet it shattered against the Gargoyle's skin. Cursing to herself Charlya drew her Nightingale blade, lightning engulfing her other hand as she called upon her magic. Ducking under the gargoyle's claw as it swiped at her neck, the Dunmer vampire slashed her blade across the monster's chest. Sparks flew off as if she had hit stone. _"Great,"_ Charlya thought to herself as she ducked another attack, _"It has stone skin."_ Charlya gritted her teeth as she backpedaled, blasting lightning strikes to try and keep the gargoyles away. Behind her, Serana let loose her own magical assault, lightning and ice spikes thundering into the gargoyles. Yet the gargoyles were undeterred, charging through the magical barrage as if it were nothing. Taking a deep breath, Charlya readied her Thu'um, if nothing else it would slow the gargoyles down and give them time, "_Fo … Krah Diin_!"

The ice imbued Shout slammed into the gargoyles, covering them in a thin layer of frost and slowing them down. Still the gargoyles came, barely slowed down and Charlya tried to think of something fast. There was only one thing that she could do, giving no thought to any kind of repercussions. Drawing in another deep breath, the Dunmer vampire called on all of her power as Dovahkiin, pouring as much power as she could into this next Shout, "_Fus … Ro Dah_!" The wave of pure concussive force tore from her throat like a clap of thunder, blasting into the gargoyles and shattering them to pieces. Charlya dropped to her knees, coughing and hacking even as she tried to gulp down mouthfuls of air to steady her breathing.

By Azura, that had been a bad idea … not that there had been much else that she could have done. The Greybeards, those who trained her in the use of the Thu'um, had warned her about using the Dragon Shouts too closely together. While she could Shout as often as she wanted, even she wasn't immune to the drawbacks of using them too quickly. Of course, in the past she never had to use the Dragon Shouts so quickly. Normally any bandits that she faced would fall to her bow and blade long before she was forced to use the Thu'um. While most dragons she faced circled above out of range giving her time to rest her voice. This had been the first time she Shouted so quickly … and it certainly wasn't something she wanted to repeat. Still coughing, Charlya fumbled for her pack when Serana spoke, "Here let me help you."

Taking the pack, the elder vampire reached in and withdrew a blood potion, handing it to the Dunmer woman. Charlya downed the potion in one gulp, allowing the blood to sooth her sore throat. Nodding her thanks, Charlya returned to her feet and the two vampires crossed the bridge. The door that they found opened back into the Nordic ruins and no sooner had they stepped through than Draugr burst out of their sarcophagi. At least the Draugr were easier to kill than the gargoyles had been, and the two vampires continued on further into the ruins. The next room they came to was a large amphitheater, a fire blazing in the center of it. The Draugr around the perimeter were easy enough to kill with her bow and arrow; yet no sooner had the last Draugr fell then a Dragon Priest rose from the large stone throne. Biting back a curse Charlya drew her sword even as the Dragon Priest floated toward her, its magical staff alive with fire.

Charlya pushed Serana out of the way as fire leapt from the Dragon Priest's staff, the magical inferno blasting into the Dunmer. Any other person would have been incinerated and any other vampire would have turned to ash, but not her. She was _Dovahkiin_ – Dragonborn – she had the soul of a dragon and the dragon's fire ran hot through her veins. More importantly, she was Dunmer and a daughter of the Red Mountain, fire could not harm her as easily as it could the other races. "_Wuld … Nah Kest!_" The Dragon Shout carried her forward with all the speed of an arrow, her feet never touching the ground, burying her blade into its neck as she slammed into the Dragon Priest. A sharp twist of her blade decapitated the Priest, its body dissolving to ash at her feet. A soft whispering drew her attention to a Word Wall, compelling her to walk toward it. She closed her eyes as the knowledge of the word "_Gaan_" filled her mind and one of the many dragon souls she absorbed showed her its potential.

She was startled out of her daze when Serana placed a hand on her shoulder, "You all right?" The Dunmer merely nodded, heading in the direction she could smell fresh air coming from. The two vampires emerged from the cave, the midday sun beating down upon them. By Azura, she must have been in that crypt for longer than she realized.

As they made their way down the mountain, Charlya silently wondered if they should just head straight for Serana's home or if they should stop and resupply. Windstad Manor was on their way, and Charlya knew her family would be delighted to see her. Yet at the same time, she was worried about bringing Serana there. It wasn't that she didn't trust the elder vampire to control herself, Charlya was unsure of how her family would react. They were, thankfully, ignorant of Charlya's own status as a vampire and the Dunmer was afraid it would lead to unwanted questions if they discovered what Serana was. Resupplying wasn't the only advantage of returning to Windstad Manor, they could then take the wagon to Solitude which would be much faster than merely continuing on foot. The Dunmer vampire took a quick look through her knapsack, sighing when she found she had run out of blood potions and dangerously low on other supplies as well. Well, there was no avoiding it now; they would have to stop at Windstad Manor and stock up.

It was another day before they reached Windstad Manor, the sun blazing high in the sky and Charlya could hear her adopted daughters, Runa and Sofie, playing. The girls broke off their playing and ran up to the Dunmer, throwing their arms around her waist with cries of "Mama! You're home!"

Charlya chuckled softly as she returned their hug, "Where's your mother?"

"She's inside preparing the midday meal," Sofie answered, and then the Nord girl noticed the other figure standing slightly behind her mother, "Mama, who's that?"

"She's a … friend. I'm helping her with something," Charlya responded, herding her daughters back toward the mansion. "Go let your mother know I'm here." When the two little girls were in the house, the Dunmer turned to Serana, "Listen, they don't know I'm a vampire and I'd like to keep it that way." She paused briefly, trying to come up with a way to say the next bit less offensively, "I also think it may be a good idea for you to hide your own vampiric features."

Serana merely nodded, "Don't worry. I know what people think about vampires." As they walked through the door the elder vampire asked, "I assume we're not staying for long?"

Charlya lowered her hood and removed her cloak, hanging it on a hook, though she kept the face mask in place, "We can restock after a quick meal. Though if you're not in any rush, we can rest here for the rest of the day and continue first thing tomorrow."

"That's fine with me," Serana replied as the Dunmer woman placed her weapons on one of the weapon racks. "Truth be told, I'm actually dreading returning home."

Any question Charlya may have asked was interrupted by her wife, Jenassa, walking into the entry hall. The Dunmer women embraced each other, sharing a quick kiss. "Are you staying for long, love?" Jenassa asked as they broke the kiss.

"Unfortunately, no," Charlya replied, "I need to restock some supplies, but there's no rush to leave." The Dunmer vampire pulled her wife close. "We'll rest tonight and leave first thing in the morn."

The rest of the day passed far too quickly for Charlya's liking. They had a simple midday meal, the children constantly begging for stories of her adventures. After their meal, the girls dragged Serana outside to play. It was somehow reassuring to watch the ancient vampire playing simple children's games, and whether or not Serana knew it, she was a natural with children. This, of course, allowed Charlya to spend more time with her wife. The two Dunmer women cuddling together on one of the outdoor balconies and watching them play. As she watched, though, Charlya swore she saw sorrow deep within the elder vampire's eyes. It wasn't an obvious thing and Serana was apparently adept at hiding it, as the Dunmer vampire could barely tell it was there. She made a mental note to ask Serana about it during their travels if there was time. Dinner that night was slightly more extravagant, as it was both a welcome home and farewell feast.

"Awww, do you have to leave so soon," Sofie whined as Charlya tucked her into bed.

The Dunmer woman chuckled as she placed a kiss on the little girl's head, "I'll be back before you know it, and then I'll stay for a long time." She walked over to Runa's bed and placed a kiss atop her head. "I promise."

With the girls asleep, Charlya walked back to the main hall, finding Serana reading a book, "There's a guest room on the second floor, if you want to rest."

Serana glanced up from the book she was reading, merely shaking her head as she answered, "I think I've slept for long enough. If you don't mind, I'm just going to read until you're ready to leave."

The Dunmer vampire merely raised an eyebrow, "Alright, but it's open if you change your mind." Leaving the elder vampire to her reading, Charlya returned to the master bedroom. Changing out of her Nightingale armor and into a nightgown, Charlya joined her wife in bed. Wrapping her arms around her wife's waist, Charlya kissed Jenassa on the neck muttering, "Good night, love." The two Dunmer fell asleep in each other's arms.

As always, Charlya woke with the rising sun, quietly slipping out of bed and changing back into her Nightingale armor. Placing one last kiss on her wife's lips, Charlya left the bedroom, lifting the face mask into place. Serana was still curled up in a chair reading when Charlya walked into the main hall, motioning her to follow. The vampires entered the entry hall. The Dunmer vampire fastened her cloak as she walked over to the weapon rack, sheathing her Nightingale blade and ebony dagger at her waist. She slung her fully stocked knapsack, as well as her Nightingale bow and a quiver full of ebony arrows, over her shoulder. Charlya pulled her hood up and walked out of the manor, Serana following close behind as the elder vampire raised her own hood. Giving quick instructions to the carriage driver, the two women climbed into the back, settling themselves for the long journey.

Hours later they were outside of Solitude. Leaving the carriage behind, the vampire women continued to the coast on foot. They were halfway there and the sun was just starting to set when they were surrounded by a small group of bandits. Charlya and Serana shared a look as the bandit leader demanded they hand over all their valuables. Charlya lowered her face mask, grinning to reveal one of her fangs and Serana grinned back, her own fangs flashing in the fading sunlight. It did not take long to deal with the bandits. After the two vampires drank their fill of blood, they continued on their way. They reached the coast without further incident, finding a small boat that Serana said would take them to her home. Through the fog the Dunmer vampire could see a massive castle looming above them.

As they had neared the coast Serana withdrew more and more into herself, the elder vampire deep in thought and a frown set firmly on her face. It was even easier to see the sadness within Serana's eyes and Charlya had debated whether or not she should ask if the elder vampire was all right … she was just unsure if she would get a response. When they touched down on the island with the castle, Serana broke her silence, "Listen, before we go any further …"

"Are you all right?" Charlya asked the other vampire.

"I … don't know, but thanks for asking." Serana took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts, "I wanted to thank you for helping me so far. Depending on what happens in there, I may go my own way for a bit, I … I need some time to think about … everything."

Charlya placed her hand on the elder vampire's shoulder, "I understand. If you ever just need to talk, you know where to find me."

Serana smiled slightly, "Thanks, I've … never really had anyone who cared so much about me." Before Charlya could ask, Serana walked past heading toward the castle.

When they entered the castle, they were greeted by an Altmer vampire, "Who are … wait, Serana? Is that you?" He hurried into the main hall, "My Lord! Serana has returned!"

As the two vampire women walked into the main hall, they were greeted by a Nord male. "Ah, my wayward daughter has returned. I trust you have the Elder Scroll."

"Is that the first thing you have to say to me, _father_," Serana spat out.

Serana's father sighed. "Must I say it out loud? Yes, I'm delighted to see you, my daughter." The male vampire turned his attention to Charlya, "And who is this you bring into our hall?"

"She's the one who freed me," Serana answered, "My savior."

"I am Harkon, lord of this court, and for my daughter's return you have my gratitude," he paused briefly, studying the Dunmer woman, "I trust you know what we are."

Charlya lowered her hood and face mask as she answered, "Yes, I know what you are. You're like me."

Harkon chuckled as he replied, "No, not like you. We are older and more powerful vampires. Your blood is weak whereas ours is strong." Harkon paused again as if considering something. "For the rescue of that which I hold most dear, I shall reward you. And there is no greater reward than the gift of our blood. It will change that _weak_ disease you have contracted into something much more powerful." As if sensing Charlya's indecision he added, "Allow me to demonstrate." He was surrounded by a black mist and once it cleared there stood something entirely inhuman and monstrous. "Behold the power of the blood which I offer and make your choice."

Charlya's first instinct was to decline his offer, but something stopped her. She could sense the power which radiated off the transformed Harkon and she could not deny that it was tempting to give in. Yet at the same time, she didn't care about the power that she would gain. She was already powerful and stronger than everything save a few dragons. No, what tempted her into accepting his offer was the idea of being able to use this added power to protect her family. She couldn't bear the thought of losing her family on the off chance she wasn't powerful enough to save them. "I accept your offer," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper yet it echoed around the hall.

Without a word Harkon stepped forward, sinking his fangs into her neck and injecting a small amount of his blood. The foreign vampire blood burned through her veins, multiplying and morphing her already vampiric blood into something else. Her eyes rolled backwards and a silent scream tore from her throat as she convulsed in agony. The last thing she thought before darkness claimed her was, _"What have I done?"_

* * *

And so we have the first part of Tyranny of the Sun! So I decided to do the Dawnguard in parts, the DLC is too big to merely do a single oneshot about it. I make no promises that the next oneshot that I do will be the next part. Have no fear my loyal readers, I will be getting to the other parts of the Dawnguard DLC.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and to see you next chapter! Feedback, as always, is welcome!


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